


Anxiety

by DearLazerBunny



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, F/M, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-25 22:36:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17129999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DearLazerBunny/pseuds/DearLazerBunny
Summary: a panic attack goes horribly wrong…





	Anxiety

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: panic attacks/severe anxiety

You wake to a pounding in your chest and a throbbing in your head. Despite the darkness that surrounds you, everything seems too bright and too loud. You’re hyper-aware of the sounds around you- the nighttime calls of the birds in the trees that filter through your window, the soft clunk of boots that walk by in the hallway outside your door. The wind seems to howl ominously, a low growl that awakens something deep in your bones. Something sinister. Something that wraps its claws around your heart and pierces the delicate skin until it bleeds out into your chest, filling your lungs with thick liquid so that you’re choking on it.

Breath rattling, you reach to the table beside your bed and grab a book sitting there close to you. Only, it’s not a book- not exactly. Only the outer wall of pages remain intact, and the middle has been hollowed out to form a little cubbyhole. Inside are several bottles of brightly-colored pills, each one neatly labeled in your hand. Shaking, you pop the lid of one and swallow down a tablet. Then another. Then another, this time from an older bottle you haven’t touched in months. From the looks of it, you were going to need them, and maybe more.

You thought you were over it, this whole unnamed phenomenon that seems to wrack your body whenever it pleases. It often comes in the night, stealthily, creeping up on you until it holds you in a vice grip. But then it bleeds into your waking life, leaving you rattled even when the sun is shining and the shadows are banished to another corner. At first, it was an annoyance, a nuisance. Now, it is a danger. You hadn’t had one of these episodes since joining the Resistance, but now that it seems to have returned- what are you to do? What would happen to your job? You’ve  just been promoted to Black squadron, and you’ll be damned if anything will take that away from you- but the thought of your X-Wing, or even lifting off the ground, makes your heart jump into your throat. You can’t tell anybody, that’s for certain. Leia would ground you for life. You glance at the box of pills resting in your lap. You can manage this. You always have. As long as you can stay on the ground long enough for this to pass, no one will ever even know-

Just as you put the book back in its place for safekeeping, there’s a banging on the metal door that resonates through your temples and makes you wince. Getting up, you allow the door to open with a press of a button, only to find Jessika standing there in her flight suit, arms crossed impatiently.

“Come on, newbie. Time for you to show us what you got.”

You roll your eyes, trying to conceal the spike of panic flushing through your whole body. “I’ve flown five missions with you, Jessika. Hardly a newbie.”

She cracks a smile. “I know, I know, I’m just messin’ with ya. But seriously, get your suit on. Leia’s waiting for us on the airfield.”

You nod and let the door slide closed. Shit. Shitshitshit. You couldn’t say no. You could fake an illness, maybe. The churning in your stomach made for a promising side effect. But no- you’re still too new. What if they think you’re unreliable? Or afraid? You are afraid- desperately. But you zip up your orange jumpsuit with conviction, trying to keep your hands from shaking.

If you don’t think about it, it can’t hurt you.   
Right?

…

All in all, it was a smooth run. In and out, a clean sweep. Of course, your hands were glued to the steering the entire time in effort to keep yourself together, but no one needs to know that.

The comm crackles to life in your ear. “Okay guys, good run.” Poe Dameron’s confident voice comes over the speaker. “Now a smooth landing and we can all get some sleep.” There are various cheers along the wires as the pilots sigh in relief. A beep goes off in your wire, meaning someone was calling you privately. You press the accept button.

“Y/N. You’ve been awful quiet tonight. Everything okay?”

Dameron’s reassuring tones makes you want to break down and blubber right there over the comm, but you manage to steel your voice before responding. “Fine, sir. Just focused on the job.”

“Please, it’s an unspoken rule that after three rides with us you can call me Poe.” You can hear the warmth in his voice as D’Qar comes back into view. “I’ll see you on the ground.”

“Roger.” When the feed cuts out, you’re left with the sound of your own breathing in your little pod. You tug a bit on your collar. Has it always been so tight in here? You feel like your breath is fogging up the windshield, that’s how close you are. A familiar, uncomfortable tightness begins to encircle your chest, and you gasp for air.

No. Not here. Please, not now.

Trying to breathe, you follow the line of ships in front of you to the landing dock. Your vision is cutting in and out, blurring slightly and then snapping back into harsh focus. Blinking hard, you reach for a lever only for your hand to miss it entirely, veering off to the right like you’ve had a muscle spasm.

Oh, stars.

All at once, you’re in full-blown panic mode, feeling like you’re trying to keep yourself from splitting into a million pieces. You can see the pilots in front of you landing seamlessly onto the ground and you go to start the landing sequence-

Only the thoughts won’t come.

This is ridiculous, you’ve landed your rig so many times you can do it in your sleep. Practically have, a few times. You just… just… is it this button? Or the one next to it…?

The ground is rushing up to meet you and you have no idea how to slow yourself down. Your brain is a tangled web of knots and thorns, with even the most simple thoughts and commands going right over your head. Heaving, a single tear escapes down your cheek as you frantically try to save yourself, pulling and pressing at random, hoping the right sequence will come to you in a mad dash of inspiration before you hit the ground.

It’s like a fever dream, the implosion is. You can feel the rig smack onto the pavement so hard you’re sure you lose a tooth. Thank god it doesn’t skid into one of the nearby compounds. It just- crashes. Straight down, losing bits of sheeting and bolts along the way. You see fire start to creep its way up the window as you renter the atmosphere and only have enough time to think I’m screwed before the impact throws you from your seat.

When your eyes open, all you see are flames. Everything hurts. You taste salt- you’ve been crying, even while unconscious. People are swarming your rig, trying to douse the fire, fairly unsuccessfully from the looks of it. Your squad are climbing from their own ships frantically, no doubt wondering what the hell happened.

No one has seen you yet. You hope they don’t find you. You let the fear, the grief, the anxiety- wash over you like death. You close your eyes.

At least they’d only find your pills after you were gone.

…

A soft beeping wakes you from a deep sleep. Wearily, you open your eyes to the white, muted room of the medical ward. You can feel the mattress crunching underneath you and the rough sheets tickling your arms. As the room slowly comes into focus, you’re aware of a presence sitting to your right.

Poe.

He’s staring off into space, head in his hands. Maybe if you just quietly close your eyes again, you can avoid him… but no, he’s looking right at you now. He knows you’re awake. You eye him cautiously, trying to get a read on him, but his face is frustratingly neutral.

“Y/N.”

“Poe.” Your voice is raspy. When you go to push a piece of hair back from your face, you find your hands zip tied loosely to the sides of the bed. “What the…”

“You’re on suicide watch,” he says bluntly. “That was quite the stunt you pulled.”

Your eyes go wide. “I’m not… suicidal…”

He snorts. “Could’ve fooled us. Care to tell me what the hell you were thinking?”

Panic grips you, a familiar friend. “I… I wasn’t. I just…panicked.”

“Why? You’re a damn good pilot. You sure as hell know how to land your rig, I’ve seen you do it a thousand tines-”

He stops as tears begin to form, dripping down your face. “I don’t know! Everything was too hot and too bright and I couldn’t breathe-” you sob, remembering the impact. “It was like I was frozen. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t move. I just…”

Poe stares at you for a while. Then, carefully, reaches into his pocket and holds aloft a bottle of brightly colored pills. You blanch. “Do you know what these are?”

“I…”

“Don’t lie to me. We found some in your room.”

“Please put them back,” you whisper. “I need them…”

“Oh no, these are from my own personal stash.”

“Your own….?”

He sighs, more sympathetically than anything. “Y/N. Did you seriously think you were the only one with panic attacks?”

He says the ugly words just like that, just throws them out in the open.

“I don’t know.” For the first time in your life, you don’t ignore the diagnosis.

“Well, you’re not. We’ve all got our own shit. Our own bottle of pills. I just wish you would have told me before going kamikaze.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

He softens. “I know.” A heartbeat passes. “You’re going to stay in medical for a while. Get you stable. We’ll see what comes after that.” Carefully, he places a hand over your own, and squeezes gently. “It’s going to be okay.”

And for the first time in a long time, you believe it. 

 


End file.
